


Wings Always Come After a Fall

by Krystalicekitsu



Series: Wings [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Dean Winchester, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-13
Updated: 2011-10-13
Packaged: 2017-10-16 21:44:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/169659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krystalicekitsu/pseuds/Krystalicekitsu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean looks over and is surprised to find Lucifer glowing, too. “Dude, Cas- why does <i>he</i> get to glow? Isn’t he evil or something?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wings Always Come After a Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [](http://entangled-now.livejournal.com/profile)[**entangled_now**](http://entangled-now.livejournal.com/)'s prompt journal and [the comment I made there](http://entangled-now.livejournal.com/168239.html?thread=6417711#t6417711).

They had absolutely no idea how it had happened. Or when it had happened. Or why. Or… well, much of anything, really.

But Cas’ looking at him like this was something unexpected. Actually, on anyone else the look would have been ‘floored’ and ‘apprehensive’. But the angel just didn’t give that much away. And Dean’s starting to think that that isn’t a good thing.

Even Lucifer (who isn’t such a douche now that he’s stopped trying to kill them and instead spends his time making cow eyes at his brother, and- _ew_ ), is looking at him like he thinks Dean’s going to do something stupid. Or possibly freak out. Which Dean is still considering. Strongly considering.

But Sam’s got this soft ‘wow’ look that he probably shouldn’t be wearing, considering that- _Oh, holy fuck_ \- Dean’s got no idea what’s going on. And seriously, this is _messed up shit_. Because- wow.

Dean always wondered exactly how Cas saw the world. He never knew it was this _sharp_ and _new_ and possibly _scarrygoldenshiny_ under the _really fucking bright_.

“Whoa,” he can always freak out later, and doing that to Lucifer would just be awesome, “Dude, everything _glows_.”

He looks down and can feel a grin forming, “ _I_ glow. Sweet.”

When he looks closer, Cas is glowing his own special glow, and that’s fine, because now Dean glows too. Which is good. Dean thinks he rather likes glowing. Especially if it means that he doesn’t have to get thrown into as many walls now. Yeah, that would be awesome.

He looks over and is surprised to find Lucifer glowing, too. “Dude, Cas- why does _he_ get to glow? Isn’t he evil or something?”

Cas’ hesitant look gets traded in for a frown, a frown that he distributes between Dean’s new glowy self and Lucifer’s old glowy self.

The devil also trades in his hesitant look, but for a deviously curious smirk, that makes the glow ripple and flow. He walks- _stalks_ like some big hungry cat- right at Dean, and then Sammy frowns at the look on his not-angel’s face.

“Lucifer?” and Sam’s voice is dry and dull now, why can’t he hear it right? Is there something wrong with his hearing?

“Looks like Dean’s got his own brand of special now,” the devil purrs and Dean can hear that just fine- better than fine. The words are smooth, so full of meaning and Dean sees the curiosity, intrigue and- excitement?- inside his head like the sounds aren’t enough to hold all the meaning.

Lucifer pokes him in the chest, like a baby prodding some new toy, or a kitten with a ball of yarn, and Dean lets him because, dude, _he glows_.

But Sam’s pouting at him and-

- _stealing my angel now? Isn’t enough he goes and gets all glowy- angely- ‘own brand of special now’- has to steal my (not) angel too? Bet Cas is jealous- Does he really glow? Is he still Dean? Is he possessed- Micheal? But I don't think- don't really know- Dean would never- said yes. Dean hates being possessed- demons possess- but demons don't **glow**. Does he really glow? Damn, I **wish** I could see- Why’re you looking at me like- Dean?-_

“Dean?” Sam’s frowning now and Dean has to blink out of- _whoa, was that Sam’s head?_.

“Yes,” Lucifer and Cas stare at each other, Castiel’s doing his important angel ‘not-glare’ and the devil is smirking. This can’t be good.

“Dean.” Sam prods again and-

- _be good, he’s spacing out- head injury?- and what the heck was that with Cas and Lu?_ -

Dean snorts, coughs and fights a grin. _’Lu’? Seriously, Sammy?_

~ _You don’t want to know what he calls me in_ -~

Cas glare-glares at the devil as Dean chokes on the imagery coming from Lucifer, “Dude! That’s my brother! Could we please not go with the full-frontal nudes!?”

Sam stares at him.

Cas stares at him.

Lucifer grins.

  
~~~~~~~

“It’s not going away,” Dean mumbles into his pie. Doesn’t really need it, but it’s making him a little less freaked- _only a little_ \- and the stares he get from Cas as he eats makes him think that they need to duck out for some Important Angel Business sometime soon.

Cas has a pie-fetish. The things you learn when you can hear all your… whatever’s… thoughts. Possibly it’s just a Dean-and-pie fetish, although he’s starting to think that Gabriel’s thing for sweets isn’t a crazy-angel-turned-pagan-god thing and is an immortal-angel-of-the-lord thing instead.

Would explain why he’s suddenly watching Lucifer eat the other half of his pie.

Dean glares. ~ _My pie_ ~

The devil smirks and forks another mouthful. Around which he says, “It probably wont go away.”

Dean glares harder. ~ _MY pie_ ~ “Why not?”

Lucifer shrugs, “Fate, hand of God, destiny, whatever.”

Tempted to pout- very tempted- but restraint has always been part of his character. Or would that be pig-headed stubbornness? Why not both?

Surrendering the pie as a lost cause, he heads for the small kitchen of the motel room flavor-of-the-week and opens the mini fridge. Looks about. Sighs. Closes the mini fridge. Repeats the action with the cabinets.

Meanders to the bathroom where Sam is trying to get blood out of a pair of jeans-

- _favorite ones, too. Damnit. Stupid- banshee? werewolf? no, that wasghost?- monster. Last week. Probably a lost cause. Fit really well. Is Dean ok? Angel? Really? My brother. The one who Went to Hell. *snort* Harry Potter_ -

Dean blinks at that.

- _be easier if we could magic everything better. … never works. Well, never ends good. Stupid Dean. Getting himself all… angel…fied. Is that a word?- hey, where’d that spot come from? Oh- that’s right- Lu_ -

Dean backs out _fast_ before he hears more that he ever wants to.

“Hey, Sammy,” who jumps like he was bit.

“Jesus, Dean. Don’t do that,” he frowns, like he expects wings, “I thought you’d still be molesting your pie.”

Dean glowers back over his shoulder, “Your devil stole the last of it.”

“Jesus, Dean. You’re a-” he makes a wavy sort of ‘whatever the hell you are’ gesture, “Take it- Wait. _My_ devil?”

Dean raises an eyebrow and give his ‘really?’ look. As if he hadn’t known _before_ he could see the evil glowy Lucifer goo all over his little brother.

Sam makes bitchface.

Dean does the microsecond head twitch and fights to keep his smirk from becoming an ‘I just won’ grin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Getting slammed into a tree is not fun. Getting slammed _through_ a tree is decidedly less so, but at least his new glowyness keeps him from breaking anything _too_ important.

Still, the second time it happens, Dean is Not a Happy Camper. Add to that, he has a very pissed off Evil Thing with a blade to his throat, and he’s pretty much between a rock and a hard, sharp knife. And it’s shiny.

A shove will send the baddie away, and Dean is most certainly loving the way his glowy lets him punch things far, far away now. Because getting your ass handed to you by a freaking newbie ghost was just humiliation at it’s finest.

At least Sam’s shouted, “Dean!” comes with the gift of an iron rebar and the ghost ash makes a nice consolation prize.

Dean hauls himself to his feet after an awkward moment of counting his limbs before muttering under his breath, “…get your ‘wings’ under you; learn your new ‘powers’; experience the ‘glowy’ side of life…. Bastards.” And that’s what he’s still doing as he hauls his brother up by the back of his shirt with one hand.

“Dean! Are you okay?” Sam’s fretting like a mother hen as Dean makes sure that the blood gushing from the cut over his little brother’s eye is just Normal Brains Bashed About and not ER Trip material.

“Yeah, yeah. Fine. Hold still Sam,” the little brat is squirming even with his head griped tight. Dean jumps when Sam starts to pat him down, “What the hell?”

“Dean. You got thrown through a tree,” incredulous face is incredulous.

“So?” doesn’t look too bad, but Dean’s keeping an eye on it just incase.

“ _Through a tree_.”

“Your brother isn’t human any longer,” and Dean twitches when Lucifer walks up behind Sammy to wrap an arm around his chest and rest his chin on a shoulder like he belongs there. Lucifer smirks and Dean scowls.

“Lucifer,” and Cas’ usual gravel voice gets slightly more menacing whenever he says that word, “is correct; your brother is very resistant to damage now.”

Sam make a soft annoyed sound in the back of his throat and frowns, “Still- he got thrown through a tree.” As if the fact should make it so he’s allowed to be concerned.

Dean sighs, ignores his brother’s still worried hands and growls out marching orders. They still have to burn the bones, after all.

Sam scowls at him but, for once, does as he’s told as he picks up the Ghost Bye-Bye Bag for the hike up the hill. Why the freakin locals decided to put a graveyard on the side of a _mountain_ is beyond him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Nine days after he lost his need for sleep and for pie- Dean whimpers at that- the newest angel of the Lord gets a very interesting early-morning surprise.

He’s scowering the paper for anything unusual- steering clear of what he considers obvious traps, because the boys upstairs don't know Dean now has superpowers but they _do_ know the devil is playing nice with the two Vessels and their tag-along angel and if that doesn’t put a crimp in their Apocalypse plan, he doesn’t know what would- when a hand closes over his shoulder and a quick tongue traces the shell of his ear the same second he feels _Castiel_ seep through-out the room.

He blinks- this is the first time in a long while that Cas’ instigated anything (ten days, to be exact)- and he feels Cas’ grace wrap around them both and then they’re suddenly not in the same motel room anymore. These walls are clean and bright with new paint, there’s only one bed and, oh, yeah, the view of the Eiffel Tower is a big give-away as well.

Cas’ hands are running through his hair and under his shirt the same moment his grace wraps up around Dean’s soul and _pulls_ -

-and Dean’s coming so hard he doesn’t have the breath to shout.

And he’s falling limp in Cas’ arms before he thinks ‘ _bed_ ’ and suddenly he’s exactly where he wanted, his clothes and Cas’ draped over the cushioned chairs, flat on his back with intense blue eyes staring down at him. He has one knee up, framing Castiel’s right hip where he’s settled between Dean’s legs.

Everything’s over sensitized, the grace flowing around the room making his skin prickle and dance. The mark on his shoulder- Cas’ handprint- is practically burning and the pleasure knotted deep in his chest makes him want to cry.

It’s all so new, too _bright_ and yet it’s the only thing he wants- _ever_. Above him Castiel’s wings flare up and out and Dean can finally see them, if seeing is quite the right word.

They are grace, pure and infinite and glorious.

The colors they invoke in his mind do not exist and have never existed, the shapes and forms soothing and terrifying in their sheer power. They are the void of space wrapped around a trillion supernovae and shoved into a two pound box.

They are magnificent.

And all Dean can do is gasp as Cas’ grace brushes against his own, ripples through it, stroking up slowly, with the consistency of a feather, and he’s aroused again. Sharp and bright, and his flesh stirs.

Dean reaches up, for that spot under Cas’ ear where he always got the most blissful noises, his other hand resting on the dip in the angel’s waist. Cas sighs before the words, ‘ _No, like this_ ’ flow through his mind and Cas is coaxing his grace up and out, showing Dean how to love like an angel.

He’s awkward at first, like using a muscle he’d never knew _existed_ , let alone used before, but Cas is patient and when Dean reaches forward and plucks ever so delicately like at strings on a harp, Cas shudders over him and sags.

Dean draws some of Cas’ grace towards him with his own, wrapped tight, but not suffocating and _pulls_ as Cas did earlier.

The angel tenses above him, back arcing, head falling back and Dean watches as the form of his wings ripple and shudder like water on a pond.

Dean does it again.

Castiel _mewls_.

Dean trails a piece of his grace over the wings stretched above him, clumsily loosing hold of his power for a second before using a sliver-thin thread to twine in and around Cas’ wings.

Castiel shudders again, and sags so low he’s lying on Dean before he sobs.

Dean does it again, firmer, with more power, and _pulls_ again, at the same time- and then Cas is shouting his name as he comes.

Dean doesn’t even notice that every window shatters into fine glass.

Cas is lying on top of him, his wings flashing between that void of space and the supernova every few seconds, his vessel gasping into Dean’s neck. Which Dean is more than fine with because Cas’ grace has settled all over him, twining deep with his own and the peace Dean feels he has never before felt in his life. It’s deep and still, timeless and infinitely patient.

Cas raises his head slowly before blinking and staring at Dean. His grace is shimmering in the air around them and Dean can’t help a small smirk, because _hey_ \- he did that. Cas gives him the look that says ‘I know what you’re thinking’ before kissing him. And Dean sighs at the slow curl of grace that responds.

When Dean pulls away, he’s still wearing the smirk, “So, Paris, huh?”

“Yes,” Cas replies and Dean doesn’t think he will ever get tired of seeing the pleasure, joy and possessiveness ripple from the words.

Dean frowns as he thinks of something rather disturbing, “The other angels, can they see me now?”

Cas strokes a hand down Deans chest, watching the ripples it sends through his grace as he replies, “No. That was one of the first things Lucifer and I sought answers to. Unless you… release yourself, from this vessel, the warding symbols carved into your chest will hide you from their sight.”

“So we’re good?” Dean wants to be sure.

“Not… entirely,” hesitation, wariness and resigned weight dance through the air.

“Cas?”

And suddenly there’s a great flash in the room the same time Castiel’s eyes widen. The grace thundering through the room is fierce and angry, the power filled with knives and gravel in his throat. Cas only has enough time to get Dean into his clothes before both he and Dean are flung and held against a wall.

Dean doesn’t recognize the grace, but then he only knows Cas’ and Lucifer’s, but the bellow of “CASTIEL,” overlaid with righteous fury and anger is familiar enough that he has to fight the urge to spit.

Zachariah.

“You- you-“ and it seems dear Zach is at a loss for words, his vessel’s face contorted into something clearly not heavenly, a hand around Castiel’s neck where he dangles naked against a wall.

Zachariah manages to hiss out the word ‘blasphemer’ before he raises two fingers, “For corrupting an angel of the Lord, Disobedience and consorting with the devil, I cast you out and consign you to the pit.”

And Dean snarls at that, grace he’d had little to no control over not a half hour before rippling under his hands and at his shoulders, shredding the meager trace of Zachariah’s grace holding him to the wall. Just like with the bed, he thought ‘ _Cas_ ’ and he was at the angel’s side, fist connecting with Zach’s jaw before the angel could touch _his Cas_.

He wished he had the comforting weight of a gun, any gun, in his hand for all the good it would do him. He really wasn’t a brawler, that being more up Sammy’s ally.

Zachariah picked himself up off the floor where he’d fallen, spitting a mouthful of blood out, not even looking at Dean, “You should go back to your garrison, angel. Before I send you down with the blasphemer.”

“Been there, done that, thanks,” Dean snarls, and the ripple of shock through Zach’s grace is almost worth the interrupted Important Angel Business.

“Michael?” and Zach’s head whips around so fast that Dean is sure his vessel should have broken his neck.

Dean’s torn between replying with ‘no’ or a simple ‘fuck you’ when Cas’ hand is suddenly on his shoulder and they’re standing back in the grungy motel where Cas had plucked him from earlier, everything exactly the same.

Except for the devil and his baby brother going at it like rabbits in one of the motel beds.

“Sonova-! I _do not want to see that_!”


End file.
